


After All

by temporalgambit



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalgambit/pseuds/temporalgambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A journey can take an emotional toll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After All

The sound of crying is not unfamiliar to the King of Red Lions.

Still, when he hears a soft noise coming from _behind_ him, where his singular passenger rides, it takes him a moment to place it. When he finally _does_ , it takes everything within him to not whip his head around immediately and demand to know the cause.

But that would be intimidating, startling, and would probably make things worse, so he stops. Thinks. Comes to a reasonable conclusion. _Ah. So exhaustion and emotion have finally met in the middle_. It was bound to happen eventually (though, selfishly, he’d hoped to put it off for a while longer).

He doesn’t blame Link one bit, though. He’s quite young to be so far away from home for the very first time, completely at the mercy of the outside world and every new and frightening thing he encounters along his journey. Though the King can’t be with him every step of the way, he knows enough to recognize that he hasn’t been sleeping nearly enough. Even when he does sleep, either within the boat itself or somewhere in the King’s line of sight, it’s far too restless to be doing him much good, and he wakes looking worse than before.

This is a child gone on a virtually impossible mission, stressed beyond belief—and with the life of a family member on the line. There’s no way the King of Red Lions could hold any sort of grudge against him over a few tears. He’s certainly earned them by now. The only regret the King holds in his heart is that his ability to offer anything by way of comfort is highly limited, especially given his physical form…

Finally, he can’t stand it anymore, so he turns from the moonlit waters ahead to look at his temporary charge. Link peeks out at him from between his fingers, gasps when he realizes he’s been found out, and buries his face in his knees as if he can make all his problems go away by hiding.

Even in the dim light, the King of Red Lions can see how flushed he is—knows immediately it’s not all from crying. He’s embarrassed, and that simply won’t do at all.

“There’s no need to— Lift your head. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” He wonders if perhaps that was too forceful, but Link does as he’s told.

His face is blotchy, his eyes are red, and his nose is running despite his attempts to stem the flow with the back of his hand. He’s not a pretty sight, but nobody ever said crying was dignified. Only necessary.

Regardless, they have to get down to the bottom of it, or these emotions Link is so afraid to show will just continue to simmer just below the surface. “You have concerns about your sister.” It’s not a question.

A nod.

“And you haven’t been sleeping well. You’re tired.” Again, a statement.

Hesitation—though that’s what the King had expected. He’s pushing himself far too hard, but fears the repercussions if he admits it to anyone. Fears someone will try to stop him before his mission is through. But it’s evident in the dark circles beneath his eyes, the tremble in his hands as he, ever diligently, readjusts the sail to keep them on course.

Naturally, the first thing that comes to mind is, “You do not have to admit your condition, but it is clear to me, even in the darkness. It will become even clearer to your enemies in the daylight.”

Link nods, sniffs, bites his trembling lower lip hard. Though he’d momentarily stopped, his eyes are welling with tears again. The boat mentally chastises himself. Though he had meant it as a wake-up call, it came off much harsher than he had intended. Of everything he could do, adding _another_ worry to Link’s ever-growing list of problems was definitely _not_ how he had planned to calm him down.

“That’s not what I—” he pauses, considering his next choice of words. “I do not wish to alarm you, I only mean to say there is a balance in all things. You owe it to yourself, and to your sister, to be in the best shape possible as you fight for her. Does that make sense?”

A beat. Then another nod as a tear silently rolls down his cheek.

Now it’s the King’s turn to feel slightly awkward. “I would, ah, offer to give you a hug, if that would make you feel better, but given my physical limita— _oof!_ ” he’s taken aback as Link practically _launches_ himself towards the front of the boat, arms wrapped tightly around the wooden neck as he shudders with soundless sobs.

Apparently any affection is good affection, even from a boat, so the King does the best he can manage and rests his head atop Link’s shoulder. It’s a little difficult, and the closest they’re going to get to the aforementioned hug, but neither really minds. It’s mostly about contact, in the end.

Link is _really_ shaking now, and he _is_ just a child after all, so the King mumbles the best soothing nonsense he can think of in order to quell the brewing storm. “It’s going to be fine; you’re going to be fine; your sister is going to be fine. You’ve done well so far; you’ve been very brave. You can’t ignore what your body needs; you deserve to rest whenever you can. You are being far too hard on yourself. Do you understand?”

A nod.

“Good.” It’s finally safe to pull away as Link loosens his death-grip. He doesn’t look as upset now, which is a small blessing, but his face is very pink and he refuses to make eye contact. And he’s swaying on his feet a little. How long had he intended to keep this to himself? “Lie down for now, I will wake you if we begin to drift off course,” it’s an order. Link recognizes it as one, and he curls on his side in the bottom of the boat. It must be uncomfortable, but the little sigh of relief he lets out would be more indicative of one laying on a feather-top mattress than on the wooden planks of a tiny sailboat. Not that the King of Red Lions is complaining.

He waits for the shaky little puffs of breath to even out before finally letting out a long sigh himself.

 

 


End file.
